


sowing season

by mymostimaginaryfriend



Category: Queen of the South (TV)
Genre: F/M, in which usa network posted a promo and i took that personally, season five baby!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-24
Packaged: 2021-03-25 17:41:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30092745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mymostimaginaryfriend/pseuds/mymostimaginaryfriend
Summary: Here’s the thing about revealing your greatest vulnerability to your biggest enemy: they don’t tend to forget it.Season five short fic/drabble collection
Relationships: Teresa Mendoza/James Valdez
Comments: 7
Kudos: 34





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was originally part of a larger fic I've been dabbling with since the hiatus *before* S4 but after the James promo USA released today, this part became a drabble instead! Enjoy!

Here’s the thing about revealing your greatest vulnerability to your biggest enemy: they don’t tend to forget it.

James had known this day was coming; the writing had been on the wall since that night at the winery. The night they’d unknowingly handed over their leverage to Devon on a silver fucking platter.

He hadn’t put it together yet then—that Devon was CIA. Back then, he had thought going with Devon would mean the standard cartel two-for-one retribution special: death, dismemberment and an unmarked grave. And so, whether he liked it or not, he had sat there in the car like a complete fucking asshole while Teresa squared her shoulders and walked inside to face down _his_ demons.

He had known if anyone could get them out of it, Teresa could, but he couldn’t forgive himself for sending her in blind to bargain for his life, unaware that whatever price she paid would be far too high. After what he’d done in Texas, he wasn’t worth saving. He couldn’t let her lose everything for him.

It hadn’t felt like a risk to tip his cards to Devon, then. If his days were numbered, he could at least die knowing his mistakes were his alone.

He hadn’t counted on Teresa showing her own hand or what exactly it would reveal.

_Are you willing to risk your life for this man?_

_Yes._

That night—the honesty, the intimacy—had felt like a stay of execution. He should have known it was just a brief reprieve.

Like any sicario, he had a lengthy list of reckonings, long past due—reckonings he’d always shrugged off before meeting Teresa.

It was only by being in her orbit that he’d begun to comprehend the gravity of his past choices, their weight growing heavier in tandem with her importance. By Phoenix, the shadow he hauled behind him had taken on the distinctive weight of a dead body. Sometimes it felt like a premonition, like he was dragging his own corpse around.

Or worse, hers.

Everything changed after that night. He couldn’t know that just as he was realizing he couldn’t lose her, she was already being torn from his grasp. They’d only gotten a few short months together; it made everything feel too important. Every touch too meaningful, every argument too painful.

Every kiss felt like the last.

It took Teresa nearly dying in Bolivia and Kelly Anne digging herself into a shallow grave for the pieces to fall into place. Devon was more than he appeared.

Teresa would hate him if she knew he hadn’t pulled the trigger. But Devon was _his_ mistake, a mistake enough people had died for already. He couldn’t add Kelly Anne to the list. His penance would have to be enough for both of them. You couldn’t run from the CIA.

The looming inevitability hadn’t made his departure less difficult but it had made the decision easier. Walking out of her house in Phoenix— _their_ house—had been one of the hardest things he’d done in his life. Only the knowledge that to turn around would consign them both to hell kept him moving forward.

_“You’ll come with us, so you won’t be able to drag her down with you.”_

And it had worked for a time. Devon was fond of updating him on Teresa’s triumphs without him: her expansion to new cities, her dating life. It didn’t bother him the way Devon hoped. Teresa’s successes meant he hadn’t done this for nothing. That this sacrifice was worth something.

But as it went on, as Teresa’s business grew and grew, he’d felt the change in Devon’s demeanor. His surrender into Devon’s custody had always been more of a stopgap than a permanent solution but he’d hoped Teresa would have more time. He should have known: someone as ambitious and clever as her would fast outgrow the box the CIA preferred her in. Eventually she would need to be convinced of different ways to be _useful_ or risk becoming a liability to their interests.

It just so happened that thanks to that same night at the winery, Devon had first hand knowledge of just how to best convince her.

“The terms of our agreement have changed, Valdez.”

Something told James it wouldn’t be a negotiation.

“Sinaloa, Texas, Phoenix, New Orleans, Atlanta, Miami,” Devon continued and motioned for his driver to pull away from the curb. “Teresa has made some powerful enemies….and some powerful friends.”

“No,” James interjected, flatly, as though he had a choice in whatever question Devon was about to ask.

“Intel has it that she’s got a meeting lined up with the Russians.”

That stopped James cold. The Russians were the top of the food chain. You fucked with them, you didn’t live long enough to regret it. Sinaloa looked like Disney World in comparison. But Devon’s smirk as he said “intel” was the baited hook that caught hold of James’ attention.

They had someone inside Teresa’s organization. 

“Who?” he demanded.

“It doesn’t matter. We need someone with more access. We need you.”

He bit back his automatic refusal, aware that this might be his only chance to get vital information he could use. “Access to what?”

“Teresa’s meetings with Konstantin Volkova.”

Fucking fantastic. Not just a Russian, _the_ most powerful Russian in the North American drug trade. Ratting him out would be a guaranteed way to get them all killed.

“Forget it. I’m not a snitch.”

“We can do this with or without your voluntary assistance, James,” Devon replied, unbothered, confident in his upper hand. “Option one, you get to do what you promised to do—protect Teresa. It hasn’t been all victories this past year. Javier got himself killed. And her godson, what was his name? Tony.”

James knew he was playing right into Devon’s hands but he couldn’t stop himself. “How? Who?”

“Car bomb courtesy of a local judge, I’m told. Lacks a certain sense of sophistication but makes up for in effectiveness.”

Despite the cracked window, it felt like all the air had left the vehicle. James had never allowed himself to question his decision to leave once it was done. He didn’t make room for regrets lest they take over him completely but now he felt the stirrings of doubt or worse, guilt. He’d convinced himself he was doing her a favor, that she’d be better off without him. But would she have lost Tony if he’d been there? Or was that just foolish arrogance?

“You wouldn’t just be helping us,” Devon continued. “You’d be helping Teresa, too. Seems like she needs it. We just want Kostya.”

“And then?”

“Like I said, Teresa will be safe as long as she’s useful to us. Getting Kostya off the board would be….extremely useful to us.”

James shook his head. “You’re forgetting something. Teresa’s never going to go along with this.”

“Then don’t tell her.”

If there was anything the past few years had taught him, he knew one thing for sure. “I won’t lie to her.”

“A valiant effort, Valdez, but we both know you will,” Devon curled his lip in satisfaction as he laid down his final trump card. “She was willing to give up her life to save you once. Should we see how she feels about it now? How long do you think it would take to persuade her? How much of your blood? Because, option two, James… option two is much bloodier. Yours, hers, both. Take your pick.”

Like he said, on a silver, fucking platter.

“When do I start?”

“Good answer. We’re a few miles out from Teresa’s location. You’ll have a car and her GPS coordinates. I don’t care what you tell her, as long as you get back in. Remember, we’ll have eyes on you. You screw this up, it’s the end of the road for you both.”

James tried to use the time he had left to run the options through his head but as Devon’s town car pulled over behind a dark sedan, all he could think of was how he was minutes away from seeing Teresa again, something he thought he'd never get to do. He’d figure something out—some way to deal with the Russians, a way to get the CIA off their backs, a way to keep them all alive. He had to. But hopefully, it wasn't something he'd have to do alone. Hopefully it was something they’d do together.

“And James?” Devon called after him as he turned to open the car door. James didn’t even see the knife before it was buried in his abdomen. “Just in case either or you need the extra motivation."

James clutched his hand to his side but the blood quickly soaked his shirt.

"Clocks ticking James. Don’t let it run out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betrayalz bait? I'll show you betrayalz bait, USA NETWORK. 
> 
> Anyways, hope you liked it! Final season mere weeks away! Someone hold me!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More s5 drabbles!  
>  **In this installment:**  
>  ♕ James and Teresa have a talk after he wakes up (requested EW.com promo drabble)  
> ♕ James sees a ghost that looks suspiciously like Kelly Anne.

♕♕♕

**_Anon request: Drabble based on the EW.com promo clip:_ **

He watched Teresa as she stood at the end of his bed, agitation evident even in her stillness. As much as he’d had good reasons, he’d still kept the truth from her, something he knew she’d need time to process. Still, when she didn’t immediately follow Pote and the rest of them out the door, he couldn’t help but feel a sliver of hope.

God, he loved looking at her, always had. The soft curve of her cheek, the determined line of her jaw, the fierceness of her gaze. His eyes had seemed to search her out instinctively from the start. He used to dismiss it as threat assessment and maybe, in a way, it still was.

When she looked up, her expression had broken wide open, the depth of feeling on her face striking deep in his chest with a serrated blade.

“Why didn’t you trust me?” she asked, anguished, her eyes bright with emotion. “If I’d known, I could have — _we_ could have...”

She let her voice trail off, swallowing hard, no doubt coming to the same conclusion he had all those months ago. An outright war with the CIA was a war they could not win.

He moved to sit up, wanting to close the distance between them but was cut short by the pain lancing through his abdomen. She was at his side in an instant. No hesitation — just like she had been when he’d shown up bleeding in the loading bay.

He watched her hands hover above his bandage, concern etched across her features, and felt a profound sense of gratitude. Gratitude she’d come into his life. Gratitude she let him stay in hers.

“Teresa.”

He wanted to tell her he loved her as he reached for her hand, but “You’re the only one I trust” came out instead.

Maybe, for them, that was the same thing.

♕♕♕

_**And a Kelly Anne and James drabble just for funsies:** _

When a familiar blonde head popped in through the doorframe, James' first thought was he must have lost more blood than he'd realized.

"James! Welcome back!" Kelly Anne chirped like she wasn't supposed to be halfway across the world living under an assumed identity. That had been their deal after all. He hadn't cared where her path took her as long it never crossed Teresa's again. 

"What the fuck."

Kelly Anne winced, glancing over her shoulder as she ducked into the room. "Yeah. Bee-tee-dubs, Teresa knows about....well, _that_."

"That" of course being James deliberately ignoring Teresa's orders to execute Kelly Anne for betraying her to Devon Finch. James huffed and ran a hand down his face. Like he needed another reason for Teresa to mistrust him. No wonder why she had been so rattled earlier when he'd mentioned the man's name. Kelly Anne didn't notice him reeling, still talking a mile a minute about Tony, then Pote, then Teresa, faster than James' bleary mind could catch up.

"So what I'm trying to say is, thank you," she finished before launching herself at him in an attempted hug. "For saving my life."

James groaned as an errant elbow dug into his abdomen and hesitantly patted her shoulder. "You trying to make me regret that?" he asked, gruffly, half wondering if he already should. However Teresa felt about his assistance in the matter, at least it seemed like she'd accepted Kelly Anne back into the fold.

Kelly Anne sat up, laughing and dabbing her eyes quickly before frowning in sympathy. "What did Devon have on you?"

James sighed. If she was back inside, she'd know soon enough. "Same as you," he answered. "Teresa."

Kelly Anne smiled softly in commiseration before brightening suddenly, patting his leg as she stood to go. "Well, heal up. And hey, if you ever need someone to help fake _your_ death, I'm your gal. I owe you one."

James rolled his eyes but then suddenly comprehended a snippet of what she'd been chattering on about earlier. "Wait, you and Pote?"

Kelly Anne grinned over her shoulder on her way out of the room.

" _Pote_?!" James called after her but the only answer was the echo of her laugh down the hall.

♕♕♕

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feels good to be getting back in the fic of things with these fools. Thanks for reading and commenting as always <3 Come find me on tumblr: mymostimaginaryfriend


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